Harry Potter and Destiny's Prediction
by Holly Danner
Summary: I finally got a title, and I've reworked the story a bit. Feedback requested


Harry sat in his room for what seemed like the millionth time that summer. He didn't, like normal sixteen year old boys, go outside and enjoy the warm summer sun. He did not, like normal boys, enjoy the fun brought on by the holiday, no. Bu then again, he wasn't a normal boy. He was the "boy- who-lived".  
  
And for what seemed like the millionth time that summer, he wished he wasn't. HE wished he was a normal boy, because it he had been, none of the bad things would have happened. And for the first time in six years, he wished he'd never even heard of "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."  
  
In front of him, as he sat cross-legged on his bed was a small, round mirror. Not a regular mirror, mind you, but one given to him by his Godfather, Sirius Black.  
  
"Your dead Godfather," he reminded himself painfully. Because yes, Sirius had been killed. Killed trying to save Harry, who was to him a mixture of a son and a brother. Killed because Harry, who was so much like his father, who was so stubborn, couldn't bring himself to beg Professor Snape's forgiveness.  
  
He, who was so stubborn, couldn't bring himself to beg Snape, the person he'd hated the most (although, now that he thought about it, not quite as much as he'd hated Dolores Umbridge), to continue with his Occlumency lessons. Lessons that could have very well kept Sirius alive.  
  
He picked up the small mirror and examined it closely. This had become a daily ritual for Harry.  
  
"Sirius," he said, speaking clearly into the mirror. "Sirius Black," he repeated. Nothing happened. Nothing ever did. And yet, Harry continued with this ritual every day, praying that Sirius would magically appear.  
  
He threw the mirror onto the bed angrily. Angry at the world, angry at himself, angry at Professor Dumbledore, and hell, even angry at Sirius.  
  
Almost as if she could feel his pain, Hedwig, Harry's snowy white owl, hooted mournfully. He gave her a slight smile, reaching his fingers through his cage to stroke her soft feathers.  
  
"I can't let you out, girl," he said apologetically. "Not until tonight, anyway," he rephrased.  
  
"Would you shut that bloody bird up?" Uncle Vernon bellowed from the next room. He and Harry's aunt Petunia were taking their son, Dudley, out for the evening, in celebration of winning the heavyweight boxing title from his school.  
  
"Wonderful," Harry thought bitterly. "Praise the little prat for beating up kids half his size."  
  
Uncle Vernon pushed the door open violently and peered inside the room. Harry hadn't had much trouble with the family this summer, because certain members of the Order had threatened the Dursley's last summer. The frightened look on Uncle Vernon's fat face had been great.  
  
"Now you listen here boy," Uncle Vernon began, "we're going out tonight, and when I come home, I want this house in the same condition it is now. Don't touch anything, don't breathe on anything...in fact, don't breathe at all," he said menacingly. "We'll be late. Don't wait up."  
  
Harry said nothing, just continued staring at Uncle Vernon, as he'd done for most of the summer. When he heard the Dursley's back out of the driveway, he laid back on his bed, and began his 'self-help' chant again.  
  
"I am small, I am cold. I feel nothing. I am like a rock. I am small, I am cold. I feel nothing. I am like a rock."  
  
Time seemed to pass slowly. Harry had no idea exactly how long he'd been laying there. He heard a loud pop in the hall way, and was slightly frightened. Someone was in the house.  
  
He reached into his trunk quickly. He could hear the intruder in the hallway. Quickly, he dove forward and reached into his trunk, rummaging until he found his found. And with it out, and pointed, ready to strike, he threw the door open.  
  
"All right there, Harry?" Professor Remus Lupin asked, smiling at him. And for the first time that summer, Harry couldn't help but smile back. 


End file.
